Ethan had always been reckless with money in the soft, socially acceptable way that makes some men look spontaneous when they are actually just irresponsible. He forgot due dates, left restaurant tabs higher than our budget allowed, bought gadgets he didn’t need, upgraded hotel rooms for “the experience,” and assumed there would always be enough because there always had been enough. There had been enough because I made sure there was. I paid attention. I tracked renewals. I refinanced at the right time. I knew how much sat in checking, in savings, in investment accounts, in retirement. I knew when the utilities auto-drafted, which cards were mine alone, which ones he had as an authorized user, how much of our day-to-day stability rested on systems I had built so carefully he almost never noticed them.
So I noticed for both of us.
Not anymore.
Every card in his wallet: canceled.
Every authorized-user privilege: removed.
Every shared streaming account, every cloud login, every shopping app with one-click access, every digital foothold he still had into my life: changed, revoked, blocked, severed.
Click. Remove. Delete. Confirm.